


Master Passion Greed

by FPwoper



Category: Hannibal (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Cannibalism, Character Death, Death, Gen, Graphic Description, Master Passion Greed - Nightwish, Murder, Song Lyrics, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FPwoper/pseuds/FPwoper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to visit Hannibal to have dinner. The evening is a little different from that. Just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Passion Greed

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Please note that one of the characters dies in this work. It isn't very graphic but he still dies and I want to warn you in advance for it.  
> The song mentioned is by Nightwish and a link will be given in the notes at the end.

**Master Passion Greed**

_“Seek her_  
Seduce her  
Tame her  
Blame her  
Have her  
Kill her  
Feast on it all”  
  
  
( _Master Passion Greed,_ Nightwish)

 

 

 

“It smells good”, Dean said, reaching over to the plate holding a few roasted parts of meat. “So, tell me, what’s your secret?” He dropped a part on his own plate and dosed it with a healthy amount of ketchup.

Hannibal looked up, took his wineglass in hand and tilted it up to delicately sip the wine. “Well, it’s all in the meat, of course.” A smile crossed his face as he took in Dean’s posture. “Knowing which parts are best is obviously the most important in choosing your meat. Not only the source but also the actual part. Is it the loin? The heart? The lungs? The tongue? It’s all edible but not everything tastes as well as the next part.”

“So I just go to the butcher, get what tastes best and that’s it?” Dean asks while chewing through his slab of meat. He wants to stop eating, really, but Hannibal is – true to his word – a great cook and he couldn’t stop enjoying this if his life depended on it. Dean did not expect this tall, Sam-like man to be this good a cook and surely didn’t expect him to be this creative.

“No, of course you don’t.” Hannibal seemed to physically recoil from Dean’s question. “You don’t go to a butcher and expect him to give you his best meat. He doesn’t give you that. He’ll always keep that for himself. No, the best meat comes from prey you’ve slain yourself. You are always sure that you will have, in fact, the meat you want, and you also know no one has messed with it. That’s the big deal with the butchers. They know what they’re doing and they also know that _you_ don’t know, so that makes it easier for them to sell you something that it isn’t.”

Dean huffed. “I know about that. I mean, whoever killed the cows I’ve been eating for a while really doesn’t know what he’s doing with the meat. It’s dry as heck.” He finished his meat and took a sip of the –exquisite- red wine. “But seriously, how do you make your meat this rich in taste? It’s… amazing.”

Again a smile flitted over Hannibal’s face. “Thank you. I just like to prepare the meat when it is fresh, not cook or grill or do anything at all with the meat with the exception of seasoning it. You should do as little as possible, to prevent spoiling the meat.”

Dean nodded and took another sip of the wine. “Can you teach me how to prepare the meat? I would love to.”

“Of course,” Hannibal said, his voice dangerously low. Dean shivered but tried to suppress his hunter’s instincts. He was just having dinner at a friend’s, a friend he knew would never hurt him. “I’ll take you into the kitchen after we have finished dinner. You wouldn’t want to miss the next course, do you?”

Dean shook his head, feeling as if he was manipulated into eating more food than he’d planned to. He couldn’t really object to more food, though. Hannibal picked up Dean’s plate and left him alone in the room with only the glass of wine for company.

 

* * *

 

When Hannibal returned, Dean had finished his glass of wine and was staring out of the conveniently placed window. Putting the plate before Dean, Hannibal found himself looking out of the window as well.

“What’s so interesting outside, Mr Winchester?” he asked, helping Dean out of his daydream.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“Well, why don’t you concentrate on your dinner, then?”

When Hannibal mentioned the second course of dinner now in front of him, Dean looked down and frowned. “What is it on my plate now?”

“Lungs with beans, an Italian recipe not often used,” Hannibal replied. “I like it, though, and I only prepare it when I have special guests.”

“I don’t know if I’m such a fan of lungs, but I’ll give it a try. Also, and this is perhaps a weird question, but from which animal are the lungs?”

Hannibal replied with a laugh. “A lamb’s. Did you think I’d use something else?”

“No, no, of course not,” Dean said, laughing as well. “I mean, I don’t think anyone ever uses human lungs in their food. That would be gross, having to kill a human to make sure you have the lungs… I just can’t think about that.”

“Really,” Hannibal said, spearing a piece of lung on his fork and bringing it to his lips. “I don’t know if I could bring myself to killing a human simply for the lungs. I’d think more practical, and use every part of the human that could be used to make good food.”

“That is a very good point, but I’m still stuck on the part of killing a human.”

“Don’t you kill human monsters on a daily basis?” Hannibal asked, now popping the food in his mouth and chewing it. After swallowing, he added: “So you do kill humans. Why not use their internal organs to make the best ever food?”

“It’s cannibalism, doctor Lecter. I’m not sure if I agree with that.” Dean felt a chill going down his back again. The ease with which Hannibal spoke about killing people was frightening. Dean knew he killed people for his job but he still felt different, because that was to save others. Killing for the sake of killing and getting the organs to make food didn’t sound right to him. He didn’t know why Hannibal got on his nerves so badly and why he suddenly turned out to be much more paranoid about this friend, but he knew something was wrong with the guy.

He took a bite as well, and wanted to moan in pleasure. Had he already said Hannibal was a great cook? Well, Hannibal was an incredible cook. Normally Dean would never have even touched lungs with a ten feet pole but now he was enjoying eating one of those.

“Oh, I’m sure you agree with it once you’ve had it yourself.”

Dean looked up, warned by the ease with which Hannibal told him that, and felt even more alarmed by the look in Hannibal’s eyes.

 “The first time I ever had a human for dinner is quite some time ago. I think it was after my parents were killed and I didn’t have anything to eat except for the animals I found on the street. When I couldn’t find those anymore, I needed to eat something else. I loved meat, so an alternative was easily found. Humans were easy. Still, I came back on that when I became a doctor. I tried to keep humans alive, then, so I didn’t want to eat them anymore. I must admit that the human flesh I ate was very good.”

Dean could only stare at Hannibal. His appetite had flown out of the window when they started the discussion on cannibalism but this… this cut it. He really, really didn’t want to eat anything anymore, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cook anything with Hannibal. Hannibal noticed Dean’s sudden absence of mind and snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s eyes.

“Dean?”

“What? I can’t be shocked because you are a cannibal?”

Hannibal sighed. “You can, but please do that in your free time? I wished to teach you how to cook, and-“

“You don’t have to, Hannibal. I’m quite sure I don’t want to cook with someone who eats humans.”

“I don’t eat humans anymore. I used to eat them. I’ve changed and I have stopped eating humans.”

Dean sighed, too. “I… Okay. I’ve been confronted with a lot of people and you seem to be the most sincere of them, so I’ll just… give you the advantage of doubt. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.  Are you going to finish your dinner or did I take your appetite?”

“I… No, I don’t want it anymore. I’m not hungry anymore. Can we just cook or something?”  
Hannibal nodded and walked Dean into the kitchen. “It’s easy enough. What do you want to prepare? I have cow’s tongue, a pig’s heart and calf’s lungs.”

“Let’s take the heart. I’m not such a fan of tongues and lungs, sorry.”

“I don’t mind. I just want to teach you a few tricks on how to prepare everything fresh.” Hannibal turned around, rummaging around in the fridge a little. “We are going to prepare a starter with pig’s heart. It’s a relatively easy one but it takes a little time.”

As Hannibal started to explain what Dean would need to do (which mostly were easy things, like chopping the carrots and shallots), he lay everything down they’d need.

“So, if you chop all the carrots and shallots, I’ll prepare the heart. That’ll take the most time,” Hannibal said, while shoving the carrots and shallots and a chopping knife at Dean. “Go ahead and finish this for me, please?”

Dean nodded, still not feeling all too good about this, but deciding to trust Hannibal on this. Turning his back on Hannibal to start chopping up the carrots, Dean asked: “How fresh do you think the heart must be?”

“Well, if I really prepare it the way it is said in the recipe, I should have the heart of a freshly slaughtered pig, but as I do not have a pig at hand, I must do with a somewhat older heart. It’s still relatively fresh, though,” Hannibal said, “and it doesn’t do anything with the taste of the food.”

Dean heard Hannibal putting a pan on the burners and turning on the heat. “So, are you done with the dicing?” Hannibal asked, his voice right in Dean’s ear. Dean jumped slightly – how the Hell didn’t he hear him coming? – but then nodded.

“Yes, I think I’m done. The carrots are divided in small blocks, the shallots are a little smaller.”

Hannibal nodded approvingly and took it from Dean. “I’ve cut up the other things that needed cutting, so that you could do this. The ham is done too. Now we only have to heat the olive oil in the pan, add the carrots, shallots and ham and let that “sauté” for about five minutes.”

“Should I stay with the pan?” Dean asked, having to talk a little louder because of the noise the exhaust hood was making.

“Yes, you do that, I’ll go cube the heart and-“ Dean didn’t hear anything else above the noise. It seemed as if the noise got louder and louder every second, until he couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat. Dean was scared, more scared than he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t trust Hannibal, not fully, and now, knowing he could sneak up on him without being heard, he lost all of that trust. He knew Hannibal was a cannibal and he didn’t feel safe in that knowledge. He fixed his gaze on the pan, though. He didn’t know why but he did and after only a second he knew he’d been right about Hannibal all the time.

Dean’s hand went to his lower abdomen, looking at it as his hand came back bloodied. He jerked forward as something else entered his body and went through his stomach. Gasping, he turned around and saw Hannibal standing right in front of him, a hand curled around a tourné knife.

“Are you ready to donate your heart to me, Dean?” Hannibal asked. Dean could only stare incredulously at the man in front of him. He seemed so unaffected, so… sane in that moment of insanity. Dean couldn’t believe it. He was about to be literally murdered in cold blood by a psychiatrist that didn’t “eat humans anymore”. Uhuh. Dean didn’t believe a word of it.

“You did take my last heart from me, after all. So isn’t it fair if you give me yours now? So that I can cook a small meal for your little brother? I wanted to invite him over and give his heart to you, but the other way around is even better, perhaps.”

Dean swallowed and looked at the small knife. “You… you are going to cut out my heart?”

“Yes, I am. Do you know that if I cut out your heart while you’re still alive, you’ll live for at least one second, and that your brain will keep on living for at least two minutes? Interesting, don’t you think? I’d love to see if it’s true.”

With that, Hannibal started to cut away the flesh shielding Dean’s ribs. Only after a minute, Dean was bleeding profusely, praying for Castiel to come and rescue him, and Hannibal had reached his ribs.

“This might hurt a little.” Hannibal spoke softly as if comforting a small child before bearing down with his whole weight on Dean’s ribs and breaking them one by one. Dean gasped before coughing and feeling as if his whole world was blacking out. He couldn’t breathe fully because the bones hadn’t broken without splintering and a few splinters had found their way into Dean’s lungs, making sure the oxygen didn’t arrive at its destiny. Hannibal reached into Dean’s chest with a hand, grasping his heart and squeezing it, making the blood go into another circulation while making sure no blood came into the heart anymore, before cutting away the aorta, pulmonary veins, the pulmonary artery and the superior and inferior vena cava. Dean felt weird. He could see that his heart was being removed but could not feel it being actually done.

For a second he could feel something being ripped from him and he noticed Hannibal standing there with his heart in his hands.

His heart.

Dean’s heart was no longer in his chest.

Dean’s heart was no longer connected to the veins and arteries in his body.

Dean was dying.

Quickly.

He couldn’t even say goodbye to his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> The calf's lungs with beans is an actual recipe found here: http://bertc.com/subfive/recipes/cow_lung.htm. The starter with pig's heart is another existing recipe found here: http://www.greatbritishchefs.com/recipes/pigs-heart-recipe  
> The song mentioned is _Master Passion Greed_ by Nightwish. You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wS7NrPNjACI.  
>  I wrote this because I saw a post on Tumblr in which Dean was eating stuff and I was watching Hannibal... so it's a logical thing, I think?


End file.
